


and sometimes far too long for snakes

by TheFamousFireLadyM



Series: Black Hole Sun [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Heavily Headcanon Based, Human John, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, John Lives, M/M, Nobody Dies, Not Canon Compliant, Parlay, Post-Canon, Self Indulgent Garbage, Slime, Spoilers, Tentacle Sex, The Power Of Love, Vines, potentially a fix-it, terrible terrible au, that me kink, the vines are back, welcome to boner town population: us
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFamousFireLadyM/pseuds/TheFamousFireLadyM
Summary: It's the Final Parlay. This is it!John/MerleA sequel to times are gone for honest men, spoilers for everything.aka me attempting to hold it together in the time between updatesJohn Lives AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guess what I'm gross and you all have to deal w it now aka I can't believe John hunger gets voldemort'd  
> this ended up way sappier than i originally intended  
> im so glad fantasy kyle maclachlan is getting dicked down on a boardroom table

“Well, well, well.” John is seated at the head of the board table, looking more bored than anything else. “It’s been a while.”

“Time flies. I forgot.”

“Excuses,” John waves his words off, and stands, folding his hands in front of him automatically. Merle doesn’t move, keeping an eye on him as he approaches.

“Better than I can say for you. What have _you_ been doing in the meantime?”

“Mm, do you think I’d be missing you?” John leans in, as if he’s sharing a secret, a juvenile movement.

“I didn’t say that.” Merle spits, and John’s expression shifts near imperceptibly; Merle can tell, though, because of the way his voice changes.

“Look at you. Falling apart, are you?” John is pacing, slowly, around him, taking in every detail in that cold impersonal calculating way. “I won't hold it against you if you don't want to keep up this charade and join me already.”

“You'll be holding _something_ against me.” Merle answers, folding his arms over his chest, and John’s wide mouth curls into something threatening.

“Is that an assumption or an invitation?”

“It's been a few years, hasn’t it. You still haven't taken us out.” Merle takes a breath and says it carefully: “Would you consider conceding and stopping all this?”

“I'm surprised you remember. How long has it been?” John’s knuckles scrape along his jaw, and Merle shivers. His hands are cold, but a natural cold, a _mortal_ cold. He doesn’t answer Mere’s second question, but the touch is answer enough.

“There was some forgetting, but not anymore.” Merle’s wooden fingers close around his wrist, and all he feels is the springy give of John’s bones, like new saplings. “I won't be forgetting anymore.”

“What a pleasant surprise.” He lifts his chin, studying the way Merle’s arm connects, how it so easily segues from flesh to wood. “I like this change.”

“Glad to know.” Merle replies, sarcastic, body tensing. “I'm sure you can appreciate seeing me looking different from last time.”

“Ah, yes.” John stands up ramrod straight, hand behind his back. Merle watches his lips spread wider than is natural for a smile, his mouth appearing to curve in a grimace like a wild animal, showing perfect rows of perfect teeth. “And so much older too.” There's a mocking tone to his voice; the way he leans in, lips curving down in facetious pity.

“I call it experience. Something you probably wouldn’t have if you weren’t so busy sucking down different planes.”

“Such vulgar language.” John adds, tsking, and lithely shifting his legs, as if to hide his own arousal at merely being so close to him. “Do you think I really _suck_ anything?”

Merle doesn’t respond, releasing his wrist in thinly veiled disgust, heat building in the pit of his gut.

“Swallowing, though.” John regards him with ageless eyes that seem to pull the light out of the room into them, like black holes of their own. “ _That_ is something I do.”

He can’t hide his burgeoning arousal at that, the way Merle’s mouth goes dry and he’s forced to gulp down air like it hurts, and John notices. John smiles, and he can _hear_ the way he smiles, the too tight stretching of his face. It’s unnatural, it’s horrifying, and somehow he wants to see it shatter. Merle’s fist clenches and he takes a swing, completely forgetting how he can’t truly harm John while they’re in there. He isn’t sure as he realizes that, if the blow will connect, or if something will stop him while he’s in here.

John catches his fist inches from his face and in an instant he’s throwing Merle across the table. The dwarf barely manages to sit up before John’s palms are slamming his hips down against the cool faux wood. The weight makes his joints ache, and John is studying the way Merle’s expression twists with pain.

“You used to be able to put up with this.” John remarks, voice soft, knees digging into the flesh of the dwarf’s thighs, leaning in so carefully. Merle lets his head fall back, beard cascading down his chest.

“A hundred years ago, I could.”

“A hundred years ago I would have killed you by now.” John sits back on his heels, grip lightening up on Merle’s pelvis, not putting as much weight on Merle as he had been.

“Well, that’s some character development.” Merle jokes, and when John doesn’t respond, fear punches its way through his chest until he feels the cold thin fingers of the Hunger closer around his waistband. Then, fear gives way to something else, something old and familiar, deep inside him, something aching, something _ravenous_ , heart racing in his chest.

John tears his trousers down, and Merle’s erection springs upward.

“Of course,” John breathes, hot mouth too close to his straining length. His fingers close around the hardness, bringing it close to his lips, and Merle lets out a strangled sound when John speaks against it, soft lips brushing his heated skin. “How long has it been, my old friend?”

“Too long,” He groans, sounding far too weak for his own liking, and John gives him a lascivious look before taking him into his mouth. A sigh escapes Merle’s lips and he wishes he could reach forward and card his fingers through John’s too perfect hair, muss it up some. He knows that would definitely get him on John’s bad side, but really, he deserves a little messing up now and again.

John’s eyes are focused on Merle, burning through him like nothing else, as he watches John lathe attention to his cock.

Merle does end up threading his thick fingers through John's hair. It doesn't really feel like anything but hair gel, and smells faintly familiar, like some long lost memory of a flower or an herb he can no longer recall, but Merle is successful in messing it up. John scowls around him, but doesn't stop. Moments later, from the effect of seeing John messy or from the mouth on his dick, he's not sure, but Merle comes, sloppily.

John makes sure to maintain eye contact as he swallows, the muscles in his throat bobbing as he licks him clean. Merle falls back against the table, red in the face. John wipes his lips clean with his impeccable fingertips, and sits up to straddle his thighs, satisfied. He considers Merle for a long moment, before letting out a huff and taking his flaccid cock in his well manicured hand. “Not as spry as you used to be?”

“Yeah, sometimes that happens when a man gets older.” Merle replies, sitting up on his elbows.

John seems disappointed but doesn't show it, only teasing his length with his fingertips. His own erection is noticeable as he eagerly grinds it along the flat length of the planes of Merle’s stomach, leaning in, one hand splayed onto the table right beside Merle’s head.

“If only you could fuck me like last time. All those years ago. I might change my mind about getting rid of you.”

“Might be a little hard right now. Give me a few minutes to get it up again.” Merle answers him, palms dancing down John's sides as he can't figure out where to rest his hands.

“We have all the time in the world.” John replies, rolling his clothed hips against Merle’s belly again and letting out a stifled moan. John's eyes fall closed as he lets the unbridled ecstasy wash over him, the way he's taking his pleasure without any real assistance from the dwarf. Merle can't help but look up at him, noting how the red sunset, fading swiftly into dusk, lighting sets the mood, casting stripes of orange onto John's gasping face, and somehow distantly acknowledging how his heart clenched in his chest at the image.

Merle’s hands finally settle at the narrow flare of John's hips, guiding his thrusts. He grinds the heel of his palm into the bulge of John's erection through his trousers and presses their mouths together. John’s free hand lifts and closes around his throat, and for one brief second, Merle is sure he’s going to snap his neck and end it all right there, a pang of fear filling his chest, but when his fingers loosen, but don’t depart he lets out a breath and looks up at him. He realizes then, that John isn't going to kill him, that _something_ is stopping him. Merle isn't sure he wants to know what that something is, at least, not yet. 

“How about my turn?” Merle offers without a trace of irony or malice, mouth brushing John’s, his not flesh hand settling almost too easily, too _casually_ , at the small of John's back, and a thick vine wraps around John’s ankle, dragging him forward to the edge of the table, legs almost dangling off. “Not as young as I used to be, so pardon my choice in filling you up.”

 _Plant magic, he's using plant magic._ John seems to think as he is panting, watching him intently as another vine plays with the hem of his pant leg, before it delves up, caressing his calf as it passes up closer to the heat of his groin, following Merle’s expression with his eyes. His head rolls back on his shoulders, mussed hair falling out of its perfect styled coiffe and into his eyes. John brushes a few strands away from his face, before using both hands to brace against the tabletop as the vine makes its way between his legs. A lost look crosses John’s expression before his mouth opens in an oh. His breathing intensifies, whole body heaving with it, as the vine plunges into him. John’s legs are trembling, and the seams holding his trousers together are beginning to split as the vine thickens, pressing into him incessantly. His trousers tear apart from the slightest of pressure and it knocks John back against the table as several vines surge toward him, pressing into him as black ooze leaks from his stretched hole.

Merle reaches out to take hold of his spread legs, and John doesn't notice, too busy being fucked open by several thick vines. John manages to turn over, climbing up onto his hands and knees on the table. Merle takes that moment to draw his shirt open, palming his chest. His hands draw down past John's hips and he's just stroking John slowly, taking sweet advantage of how much he could stuff in John.

He lets out a whimper and presses a hand to his ever so slightly distended lower belly, feeling the vines there, roiling and pressing out, moving and thrusting beneath his skin, making him feel so _full_ , his skin hot, body overwhelmed with pleasure, and he lets out a helpless sound, letting his head drop as he shakes there, on his hands and knees. A broken cry bursts from John and his one arm that had been holding him up collapses, face buried in the crook of his elbow, ass in the air, free hand splayed across his bared belly, still feeling the vines there inside him where they writhed and thrust, more and more piling into him as they grew deeper, belly distending as the vines do.

“Had enough?” Merle asks, noting how he's shaking, overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure slamming into him, and his voice is far too caring, too sweet, too _nice_ , and it sickens him. John notices and doesn't answer, his shaky breath sounding strange and distant, mechanical. He starts when Merle touches him, a gentle hand on the curve of his back, tense muscles moving and writhing like snakes under his skin.

John claws at the tabletop, leaving visible marks as he snarls, dripping black slime down the side of his thigh. “How can you do this to me without considering who I am, what I am, what I _could do to you_ ?” He lifts his face to turn to Merle, snapping at him at once, that same black ichor leaking from the edge of his mouth, too black, devoid of light, sucking it in like a black hole. “Do you intend to take me down like this? Making me _feel_ , making me,” his voice stutters as he lets out a cry, voice dripping with venom, with hostility, “ _L-love_?”

The vines slow before pulling out, leaving him gaping and empty and missing the movement inside.

“Oh, I more than know what you could do to me. Intimately, even. I'm not afraid of you, buddy. Even if you think I should be.”

When Merle focuses, he notices John's face is splitting like a broken porcelain doll, one quarter of it not matching the rest of him, flickering in and out of view like a broken neon light. Beneath the facade of his face, there's hundreds of thousands of little pinpricks of multicolored lights, like stars. John opens his mouth to try to respond, but nothing but discordant otherworldly sounds escape, the cacophony of thousands of dying worlds. His mouth lingers open and he flickers again, and the look on his face is something Merle has never seen before on his perfect features.  

Merle takes his face in his hands and kisses him. John's hands are like claws at his wrists, but he doesn't manage to pry his face free, seeming weaker by the minute, as if he's falling apart too fast to hold himself together, as if legion itself is tearing asunder as he climaxes, temporary mortal little body unable to deal with being so full of light and space and _feeling_ , crying out louder and sharper with each breath, voice crackling and breaking off as he falls apart right there in front of Merle.

He tastes like stardust and light, and his mouth is so soft against Merle’s own as he pushes back against him, needing more, as if desperate for his touch. It's almost like coming home.

* * *

 

When the parlay ends, Merle falls to one knee, rematerializing in front of them. He lifts his gaze, dazed at his first ever successful parlay. Taako wouldn’t show it but he’d been gnawing at his fingernails until they were stumps waiting for him to come back, and Magnus, it looked like, hadn’t moved from the spot he stood, shoulders against the wall, for _hours_.

It’s only when Merle stands that he notices, and is surprised at what he finds. John is curled up at his feet, naked, trembling, empty. He has never felt so alone, the Hunger has left him for good, legion has departed.

When Lucretia finds him, worriedly busting into the room without a second thought, fearing the worst, she’s surprised to find Merle alive and well, fine, albeit a little winded, looking far too smug for his own good. He gives Lucretia a little wave as he takes in her expression sweeping across the room. Merle bites back a laugh when she notices the small, shaking man sitting next to him, wrapped in what looks like a quilt he tore off the bed, dark hair wet and body visibly trembling.

“John, formerly known as the Hunger, Madame Lucretia. Lucretia, John.” He introduced them, and John leveled his distant gaze to her. It was with a jolt that she realized he had that thousand yard stare, that he wasn't really seeing. He leaned his damp head against the dwarf’s shoulder and Merle had no problem draping an arm around his shoulder to keep him upright. John didn’t blink. She wondered if that was because he never had to blink before, or because he still didn’t need to blink now.

There was a long moment as they all settled into silence, before Lucretia asks quietly: “Does this mean we won?”

“Yeah,” Merle replies, unable to believe it himself. “I think it does.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe lich lup possessed me to write gay porn welcome to hell guys population us

Lucretia was awash with so many different thoughts. This was the hunger itself, crammed into some mortal humanoid form. The first thought that managed to take form was _What the Hell were you thinking?_ She spits those words immediately, and Merle didn’t react beside the way he let his hand drop from John’s side. The man almost instantly let his head fall forward, gaze piercing nothing once Merle’s steadying grip was gone.

“Yeah, look at it like this.” Merle leans forward, elbows on his knees. “This guy right here was the Hunger, but he’s not anymore.”

“So you’re telling me,” Lucretia asks, dryly, crossing her legs at the ankle. “You stopped the Hunger by sleeping with it.”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds awful.” Merle replies, giving a nervous little chuckle. “It’s more like _the power of love_ saved the universe.”

“Do you love him?”

“Now let’s not be hasty and put words to feelings and all that,” Merle puts his hands up, fingers spread. “Maybe the Hunger just needed a good lay.”

Taako covers his face to stifle a laugh, and Magnus had to walk out of the room before he burst out laughing in the hall.

“I mean, it worked, didn’t it?” Merle lets out a chuckle or two. “What’s the problem here?”

“The problem is this man that’s killed you around sixty times is just being allowed to roam the bureau.”

“Wow, Luc, sounds like you do care about me.”

Lucretia frowns, and pinches the bridge of her nose, before sighing. “I do care about you, Merle, yes, but we don’t know whether this is a temporary notion or something more permanent. Holding the personification of the Hunger here is dangerous enough, but what if he hurts anyone? I don't…” She pauses, letting her hand drop. “You aren’t deathproof, despite what you may think.”

* * *

 

“She doesn’t trust me.” John announces after some time, pulling a slightly oversized white linen shirt over his head and absently tying the laces of the open collar. “Not that I blame her.” He lifted his head, dark eyes unchanging. Merle drew near as he watches John make knots in the laces, but John's gaze didn't shift to meet him.

“ _I_ barely trust you, and I'm the darn reason you're here.” He takes John's collar gently in his hands and unties it, before retying it carefully and patting his shoulders with both hands.

“That doesn't make it any better.” John's gaze finally slides to regard Merle’s expression, his head not turning. Merle chucks his fingers under John's chin, lifting his face. He squints, studying John's eyes. “If you're looking for the emptiness of space you won't find it.”

“No, i wasn't, but now I'll consider that.” His eyes settle closed, and he leans into Merle’s touch. His head was so heavy. Filling a body like this was something he didn't remember. Had he always been nebular and ungraspable, or perhaps something more, he stops to think to himself.

John's mouth curls into a sneer but it wasn't the same without the power of thousands behind it. He was weak, he was just as mortal as the rest of them. “You took me from that connection. They'll scatter to the winds, do you know that? Everything will be lost.”

“Not exactly. We’re receiving notice every single thing that was in you, every lost world is back.”

“Ah.” John tilts his head back, listening to him talk. “That would explain it then. This feeling.” He lets his chin drop, looking at him. “I need to be filled, Merle.”

“Don't look at me, how am I supposed to do that?”

John stands, his own chair falling backward. He reels, unused to actually containing mass in a quantifiable state, before striding uneasily at once to where Merle is seated on a folding chair across the room, and crashes their mouths together. Merle grasps at his arm, hand clasping at his elbow carefully. John's eyes close and he pulls back, head cocked to the side. His breathing is heavy, and Merle still hasn't let go of his forearm.

“Like that. That's how you do it.”

“Okay. That gives me a little bit of a hint there.” Merle twines an arm ever so carefully around John's narrow waist and the man who once was the Hunger does not stir, not once. He could feel the bouncing beat of John's heart speeding up, but it was as if John had no idea what to do next. “Easy,” Merle breathed, patting his hip like he was a spooked animal. John is uneasy, jaw clenching and unclenching. Merle finds this distracting despite himself, and fights the urge to press his mouth to it.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, hands on his hips.

“Do you remember how it used to go?”

“Parlay, you mean?” Merle crosses the room around him, pacing as he thought out loud. “We talk, you kill me. Don't think that's what you have in mind.”

 _“No._ Not the last few times.”

“You sure killed me a few of those times.”

“Once you were finished.” John replies. “You wouldn't want to stay around for very long after. I'd have nothing to offer you.”

“You didn't exactly ask.” Merle remarks.

John fixes him with a stern look, but it falls flat. “I tried not to hurt you.”

“Yeah, but you killed me. That doesn't exactly make you a saint.”

His mouth folds into a frown, but he stays quiet.

“What do you mean then?” Merle leans in. “What exactly do you want?”

“I want,” John answers, voice wavering, “I want you to….” He lifts his chin and kisses Merle at once, hands clenched in fists at his sides. John lifts his hand as if to touch Merle’s face but his hand never lands. Instead he lets it drop again, and Merle cups his cheek in his own broad hand, wood thumb brushing John's cheek.

“Okay. I think I know what you want.”

 

* * *

 

John is splayed spread eagle on Merle’s bed, shirt hitched up around his ribs, trousers down around his ankles, and the flush that traveled down from his face to the line of his chest was new and incredibly attractive. He watches Merle watch him, and smooths a hand down his chest, lingering far too long down the line of his stomach. Merle swallows as John takes his erection into his hand and pumps himself in his fist, hips bobbing lazily as his palm skates over the planes and indents of his pelvis.

“You look like you want to join me.” John murmurs, and Merle shivers, mouth too dry to let him speak. He runs his palm along his lower belly, catching Merle’s gaze. “I'm so empty it hurts.”

He takes a knee, his weight pressing John down against the mattress as John, fingers slick from precum, circle his own ass with his fingers before plunging them in two at once. Hips pistoning, his erection bounced each time he moves, trying to finger himself. Merle swallows hard, again, and moves in closer. John's bare legs flex, and he runs his hands up them before coming to a stop at his thighs.

“I can't promise I'll fill you the way you're used to,” he murmurs, head bowed, “but I can sure as hell try.”

John's fingers ghost across the parts of Merle they can reach, mostly his throat and his jaw and the bare triangle of his chest that stuck through the collar of his shirt. “Do you always attempt such impossible tasks?”

“Not _always_ but sure, a lot of the time.” Merle slicks himself up and eases in, noting how he had stretched himself before. He leans his head back, driving his teeth through his bottom lip. “Taking you in, yeah, that’s an impossible task if I’ve ever heard one.”

“And yet you do it.” John’s hands skate up his chest, through the coarse hair that coats it, and come to rest on his shoulders. “You’re still a mystery to me, Merle Highchurch.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He lets John reel him in, one leg catching on the rise of Merle’s hip, and Merle’s palms cover his jutting hipbones. He pulls him in, and John bares his teeth when Merle bottoms out inside him. His eyes, star colored, fall closed and he leaves his mouth slack, lips moist.

“You feel just the same as always.” John answers when he can, heady with desire. “Familiar is good.”

“Good.” His voice rumbles low in his chest as he starts to roll his hips slowly. John’s chest is sticky when it comes in contact with his own. He could feel John’s heart hammering under his skin and wonders if that was new, or if he just never noticed it before. He laces his fingers behind Merle’s head and moves with him, slow and easy. It’s a careful hand that lifts John’s mouth to his own, fingers curling easy into John’s hair, damp with sweat.

Merle’s breath is hot and heavy, the sound of it overwhelming, as John clasps weakly at his face, their mouths almost meeting but not quite. It wasn’t enough.

“How do you do it? This.. this always inhabiting a body?” His voice is soft against Merle’s ear, and he bows his head, hips stuttering their thrusting at the sound of his words.

“Carefully, most of the time. I think you get used to it after a while.” Merle jokes, pressing his mouth to the crux of John’s throat. That sensation brings goosebumps to his skin, hair standing up on end, as Merle swipes his tongue along the cord of his collarbone.

“You would know, wouldn’t you? How long have you been in this body? A hundred years?”

“Give or take,” He glances up at John and the sensation of an electric current courses through his gut when their eyes meet. He raises his gaze to Merle’s before he surges forward, mouth meeting the dwarf’s. His long fingers grasp at Merle’s jaw, threading through his beard. “Long enough to know when somebody’s interested.” He pauses, brushing their mouths together. “The why, however, is not as easy to figure out.”

“You..” John’s hand dropped from his face, and he searched Merle’s expression for a long few minutes. “You’re the first person to try to reason with me.”

“Yeah, that I did. Still not sure whether it was a dumb decision or not.” Merle reaches down to smooth a hand down the length of John’s dripping erection, palm rough but his touch gentle. John falls back against the pillow, hips lifting with each stroke, before he kicks his trousers off. He matches each roll of his hips, stroking counterpoint. Merle loses his rhythm when John starts to push back against him, simply thrusting fast and hard, pressing against him, chest to chest. John grabs at his shoulders, mouth wide as he lets out a choked groan, their bodies held fast together. Merle shoves John’s shirt off over his head, fingers trawling his flushed flesh, eager to touch. His legs hook around Merle’s waist, holding him so close, as they tumble over the edge and into their climax together. He's staring down at John, panting hard, hands bracketing on either side of his head. John swallows hard, hand cascading down the side of Merle’s face, down his chest. Merle grunts, pulling out slow, fingers curling around John's thigh.

He's shaking, overwhelmed, panting and can't even bring himself to speak, chest heaving as he just looks up at his face.  Merle pulls back, taking a heavy breath and leaning back on his bare heels, sitting up, chest and belly sticky, painted white.

“You okay?”

“Why are you asking? I thought…” John answers after he's caught his breath, lying on his stomach beside him, arms crossed on the flat top of the mattress. He pauses then, realizing he had _his_ _own_ thoughts, no longer the cacophony of legion storming through his nebulous all encompassing mind. His gaze grows distant, and he falls silent, feeling incredibly small at that moment.

“Anyway,” Merle bumps John's knee with his elbow, knocking John out of his reverie, bringing him back into the conversation. “I'm asking because I _care_.”

“Why, why do you care?” John shakes his head, opening his eyes and looking directly at Merle. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“Sometimes I wonder the same thing.” Merle scoffs, and leans his elbow on his knee. “I don't know, and I don't think I'll know for a long time. I just think,” he pauses and gives John a weak smile. “Everybody deserves a second chance.”

John's mouth curves up to mimic him, and he stops to touch his cheeks. “Am I… happy? What is this I'm feeling, this… ache?”

“Well, what's it telling you to do?”

John regards him coolly, before sweeping the dwarf in close and kissing him, seeking _something_ out in the warm confines of Merle’s mouth. When he pulls back, he touches his lips with his fingertips and stares into the middle distance, letting out a long breath. “I don't know.”

“Sounds like my kind of mystery.” Merle replies with a grin, eyebrows raised. “Want to talk about it? I'm not a doctor but I can try to help.”

John gave him a pained half smile, glancing at the dwarf. “I don't know if you'll be able to.”

“Try me.”

John took a deep breath and held it.

Merle nudges him. “Don't forget you need to breathe.”

He shoots Merle a look and let it out, before speaking.

“She, your _friend, Lucretia,_ asked you if you loved me.”

“I didn't think you could hear that conversation.” Merle speaks at once, and John shakes his head. “Do you think I would--”

“ _Do_ you?”

Merle pauses, acting like he didn't hear him, and John asks a second time. “Do you? You asked me if we were friends, once upon a time, years and years ago. I cannot answer that, as much as you want it to be.”

“And I can't answer whether or not I love you.” Merle says it deliberately. “Because I don't rightly know myself.”

“Of course.” John replies, sarcastic. “An easy way to answer the question.”

“Look. I've been in love before, or what probably passed as love until I decided to muck it all up.” Merle crosses his arms over his chest as John cocks his head to the side, listening to him.

“Was that before or after I never saw you again?”

“After.” Merle says it plainly and John lets out a loud breath.

“You didn't remember me, did you? But you still were unhappy in a home you built with someone else.”

“If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting--”

“Merle.” John interrupts. “This is the truth as I know it. You let me sleep with you, you took _something_ from me before vanishing forever, and when you come back, your marriage failed, you come right back to me.”

“Yeah, so?” Merle shifts, tipping his hip to one side against John. “That doesn't prove anything.”

“Do you,” John pauses, looking him over, “Do you love me, truly?”

“The same way I'd love any friend of mine that killed me five or six dozen times. What I'm getting at is a soft no, buddy.”

John frowns. “It doesn't hurt to hear you lie. I just want an explanation.”

He chuckles, thinking about it for a second. “You got your explanation.”

Merle pulls a half dressed John into his lap, one leg on either side of him and John makes no attempt to pull away. If anything, he leans in, arms draped over Merle’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

“I don't get you, and I don't pretend to get you.” Merle says it softly, and his fingers graze up John's bare sides. His legs twitch like he's ticklish, but John doesn't respond out loud except to let his mouth curve into a half threatening snarl, mostly weary.

“Is that a requirement?” John tilts his head forward, eyes downcast as he looks at how close their bodies are.

“Well, no. But I'm not going to stand around saying I know your motivations.” Merle’s hands finally reach home at the base of John's hips. He shifts, pressing closer when Merle’s thumbs brush his bare stomach, and pushes their mouths together at once. Merle lets out a surprised sound that's swallowed in John's mouth, his tongue curling into Merle’s mouth as he seeks out whatever it is that Merle seems to hold that he can't get enough of. Their kiss is rough, all teeth, and John pulls back first, lifting his eyes to Merle’s breathless expression. He wipes spit from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and watches as Merle’s lips pinch before curving up on one side in a halfhearted smile.

“Like that. Why do you keep kissing me?” Merle asks, fingers smoothing circles on his bare flesh. “What do you think you're gonna find when you do?” He lifts one hand, closing his fingers around the edge of John's jaw. “You missed me, and you're looking for that spark we had. Aren’t you?”

John falls silent, mouth in one tight line. His gaze immediately hardens and he's just staring at Merle. “You were gone for years.”

“Yeah, not my fault.”

“There’s no blame for you to shoulder.” John replies at once, and Merle catches his gaze, before John tears away from him. “No one is blaming you for anything.”

“Still, not my fault I had no say in what memories i got to keep.” Merle reaches out to touch his face but lets his hand fall before he can reach him.

“If you had the chance, would you have kept everything about me you knew?” John’s voice is flat, eyes unfocused. “All the friends you lost along the way because you couldn’t save them all.” His eyebrows raise but his voice remains passive. “Every single death at my hands?”

“I…” Merle begins, but stops to consider it, gaze falling to the floor in front of him. “I wouldn’t be any happier than I was.”

“How would you know?”

“I can’t, so it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can go back in time and, I don’t know, figure something out.” Merle answers, hands closing into fists in his lap. John looks down between them and then takes his hands in his own. Merle’s fingers twitch in anticipation.

“You don’t know, but your actions suggest otherwise.”

“My actions.” Merle muses, tone teasing, and John’s grip tightens. “If anything, all of my actions have been in response to _yours_.”

“Oh, is that so?” John lifts his hands to his mouth, just speaking against the rough flesh of his knuckles. Merle takes a deep breath and holds it. John’s lips are just as soft as he remembers, as if he had never felt a blistering wind chapping his flesh. “Don’t forget to breathe, Merle.”

He chokes out a laugh, and John tips his head forward, kissing his hands. “Was giving me a _good lay_ my fault then?”

His smile widens and he laughs, genuinely this time, and John glances up at him over his hands. “I forgot you were listening to that conversation.”

“Do you forget often?”

“When I don’t forget not to forget.”

John presses his lips together, and lifts his chin defiantly. “That sounds like a riddle.”

“Maybe it is.” Merle answers, and John releases his hands. Merle’s digits instantly fall back to his waist, grasping it gingerly, as if John would break with rough handling. He pushes his hips toward Merle’s grip, thumbs digging into his tender skin and tilts his head back, mouth falling open.

“You’re too gentle with me now.”

“You’re not exactly legion anymore.” Merle’s thumbs shift against his hipbones. “You’re just as mortal as me.”

“Dying lose its charm?” John smiles and it’s all teeth, a show of force if anything.

“I could ask you the same thing. How many lives lost because of you?” Merle grips his waist tight. “Did you just get sick of it?”

“No. You know why I’m here, why I’m like this.” John leans back, grinding down against Merle’s lap, voice less angry than Merle expected. “You caused it, with your _bonds_ and your _power of friendship_.” His shoulders hit the bed, and he arches up, taking a breath and flexing, stretching. Merle’s eyes are glued to his bare body.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re too upset about that.” Merle leans in, pressing John down against the bed, hips still cocked perfectly fitting between John’s thighs.

“What can I do about it? You won’t let me leave.” John reaches up for him, palms coming to rest on his shoulders. Merle grits his teeth, and turns his head to the side as John slides his fingers up his throat, pausing in the hollow of his throat just beneath his adam's apple.

“You gonna kill me?” Merle lifts his gaze, holding him captive by just looking at him, throat solid under John’s thumbs, chest rising and falling without pause, coarse hair on his chest brushing John’s elbows.

John forgot to breathe again, the pink tip of his tongue brushing his smooth bottom lip. Merle takes his palm across the flushed surface of John’s cheek, and he could feel the beginning bristles of five o'clock shadow. He leads John’s mouth to his own, and John’s fingers squeeze for a split second before he relaxes, melting into his touch. Merle’s free hand climbs John’s leg, squeezing as the human rocks his hips toward him. He pulls back to breathe, and John lets out a sharp gasp, oxygen flooding his system as he pants, desperate for air.

Merle looks at him for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

He shakes his head, words having a hard time coming.

“Okay.” Merle replies, looking him over. He takes a second before pushing John down again. “Easy, killer.” He swipes a hand along the inside of John’s thigh, and pauses. “Guess we get to do this the regular way.” Merle reaches over to his bedside table, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the lube where he put it last.

John closed his eyes, relaxing, as he heard the dwarf pop open the bottle and squirt some onto his fingers. When Merle touched him, the liquid was warm. He let out a soft breath as Merle eased his thighs apart and worked a finger into him to the first knuckle. John scraped his teeth down his bottom lip when the dwarf crooked his finger, stretching him slow. A strangled sound escaped him, and Merle cast a wicked grin John’s direction, before doing whatever it was he did again.

John’s thighs are trembling already as his voice wavers, before he drags Merle in, mouth crashing against his like waves to the sand, something that would always, inevitably, happen. He runs his fist through John’s hair, taking hold of it and tugging. John lets out a ragged gasp, and grabs at Merle’s jaw with one hand, sitting up on his elbow.  
“Stop teasing and do it.”

“Patience,” Merle replies, glancing up at him, and John falls back against the bed once more, mouth falling open. His hand loosens in John’s hand but he doesn’t let go just yet. Instead, his fingers comb through John’s hair, noting how messy it had become. John leans into his rough palm, and he lets his eyes fall closed at the touch.

It’s a second of agonizing emptiness before Merle shoves into him, and John’s mouth opens wide in a sharp cry as he claws at Merle’s back, tearing him closer. He should be used to it, this burning heat filling him, after however many times it's happened, but he's not. It takes him by surprise every time. John lets out a sound like a sob and pulls Merle in close, the heat of him overwhelming as he buries his face in Merle’s shoulder.

Merle’s fingers card tenderly through his hair, and he wraps an arm around him with his free hand. John loosens his grip on his shoulders, arm coiling around his neck in a tight embrace. Merle presses his lips to the side of his head as he slows down. They rock slow, in perfect unison. For a moment Merle thinks John is crying but he murmurs for the dwarf not to stop when he slowed down to check up on him, voice muffled against his tan shoulder. His teeth sink into Merle’s shoulder as he eases back, letting John ride him, their bodies pressed together so close, flesh sticky. It put less strain on him to reach the dwarf that way, and John rocks his hips down hard, desperate to be filled. He preferred to ride him, body aching as he got deeper. John doesn't let go of Merle and the dwarf just holds him close, overwhelmingly so. Merle sweeps a hand across John's back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, as John pumps his ass down against him, never pulling away too far.

John says something under his breath that Merle doesn't catch before scratching down his back again as he comes, holding onto Merle like his life depended on it, voice catching as he crows out Merle’s name like a litany. _Please, Merle, please_ , _Merle, Merle!_ The dwarf pauses for a second, sure it was loud enough for the entire Bureau to hear, before hugging him tighter and pumping his hips rigorously into him, grunting with the effort. John’s legs are weak on either side of his hips, but he moves with him nonetheless before Merle bows his head in the crook of John’s neck, calling wordlessly in a stifled voice as he came. A wet heat fills John and he lets out a shaky helpless breath, going slack in Merle’s arms.

“Had enough?” Merle asks with a breathless laugh. “I don't think I have it in me for a round three.”

John isn't answering, head nestled in the crux of his neck and shoulder. He's awake. Merle can tell by how his fingers are playing with his beard, twisting it between thumb and forefinger.

His palm settles at the nape of John's neck, fingers tangling casually in the dark hair there on the back of his head. “Didn't mess you up too bad, did I?” Merle breathes, “You're not used to having a limit, so you might need a break.”

John's arms twine around his neck and he hugs Merle tight, like he doesn't want to let go. He slowly puts his arms around John in response, and that's when he lets it sink in that John is crying. Merle could only brush his knuckles up and down the line of John's spine, and John’s breath hitches, but he doesn't stop.

“Hey.” Merle whispers to him. “What's the matter?”

John looks at him for once, face red and blotchy. He's never seen this color on him before, and he's taken aback, before he clears his throat.

“I didn't hurt you, right?” Merle asks.

John's star colored eyes meet his face and he opens his mouth to speak but the words that come out are more vulnerable than he intended: “Were you trying to?”

Merle squints, trying to discern what he means. “Not exactly. You did start crying halfway through though, and I got worried.”

“I told you not to stop, because I'm fine.” John replies, cold and impersonal again, like he closed off as soon as he realized he was letting Merle in too close. He looks Merle over. “You sure you aren't going to drop dead right here, _old_ man?”

“Two orgasms in a row is more than enough for me. What about you, especially now that you're mortal like the rest of us?”

“I…” John speaks, letting his long legs relax on either side of Merle, before he settles his head on the dwarf’s shoulder again. “It was overwhelming. That was all. You were so close and I…” He pauses, wiping at his wet face with the fleshy heel of his hand. “I feel like I should be going to sleep for several days now.”

A weak smile crossed Merle’s lips. “Yeah, that'll do it.”

He doesn't roll away, even after Merle pulls out, hot seed dripping out of him. The dwarf draws his sheets up to John's bare hips and covers him, before getting out of bed and cleaning himself off. By the time he gets back, John is on his side, sleeping like the dead. He doesn't stir when Merle trails his fingers down his side, nor when he sits down on the bed beside him.

John slept as if he wasn't tormented by the thousands of lives he extinguished, as if he had been running on fumes for the past however long he had been the figurehead of legion. Merle was sitting up, and elbow resting on his knee as he watched John, silent as the grave but for his quiet breathing. Maybe he was just as exhausted as Merle felt, but the dwarf couldn't sleep. He felt like sleep would be a hard time coming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway this is the chapter where Lup showed up and wouldn't leave. anyway i cant believe john hunger has 2 friends now and one is a scary elf lady that wants to kick his ass

Merle isn't beside him when he wakes, and for a moment John doesn't know where he is until he realizes he's still in Merle’s quarters on the moon, in a totally human body, and they had just fucked. John lifts himself off the bed, wincing, feeling heavy, feeling empty, the weight of existing full time hitting him hard. He put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat slow, pumping blood through his body with an overwhelming rush in his ears. John found his footing, the floor beneath his bare feet always where it should have been. He took a breath and let it go, feeling his lungs inflate with the air and deflate as he exhaled.

John took several uneasy steps to Merle’s desk where clothes had been laid out. They weren't the sharp duds John was used to but they were soft, and smelled like Merle. Like wood and the sea, even though he was sure Merle hadn't been to the ocean in years, the same way he was sure that was how Merle had always smelled. It made his guts ache and his chest tighten and John did not like that feeling at all. Most feelings were unpleasant, and he did not like to dwell on them. Much like the feeling from the night before, when Merle held him. He shook and sobbed and hated every second of it, trying hard to focus on Merle fucking him into the mattress instead of _why_ he was fucking him into the mattress.

He dressed in silence, leaving the laces of his collar undone, thinking of that absent way Merle just tied them for him without asking when he dressed for the first time. The contact of Merle’s hands on his chest, the way Merle just trusted him so easily despite whatever lies he told him. It hurt, and he didn't want to think about it.

John looked up from his thoughts when the door opened.

“Oh, good, you're awake. The director wants to talk to you.”

He's disappointed that it isn't Merle, and then dimly surprised that he's disappointed. John looks toward the unfamiliar voice and sees an elf in a red cloak with a hip cocked against the doorway, hand still grasping the door knob. “Lucretia's already talked to Merle. Might as well head out now before she gets pissed. I'll give you a second to finish getting dressed. So weird to call her _director_.” She adds, shaking her head as she closes the door.

The elf walks beside him down the hall after he leaves the room and he could feel her eyes on him. John meets her gaze, questioning.

“I just can't believe _you_ ’re the Hunger.” She admits, looking him over, not appearing impressed by him. “I could break you in half over my knee.” She laughs. “I don't see what Merle sees in you either. If I had my way, you'd be mush in a puddle on the floor. Second chances, my _ass_.”

“I _was_ the Hunger.” John clarifies. “Or something like an emissary for… it. I don't remember much. In between every parlay it was all a blur, like spinning too fast.”

“Yeah, okay. Your boss or whatever was a fucking monster.” She spits, all semblance of manners gone. “We lost everyone because of you. I'll never get that fifteen dollars back.”

John's lip twitches and Lup continues: “Why he didn't just blast you to bits is beyond me. I still can't even believe he _plowed you_ into submission. Like are we gonna have to call him Magic Lifesaving Dick Highchurch?”

John didn't get a chance to answer before she threw the doors open and shoved him toward Lucretia, looking disconcerted in her seat.

“Thank you, Lup.” She added with a tilt of her head toward the elf. Lup didn't leave the room, instead making herself comfortable in a chair nearby.

“Are you aware of what we’ve sacrificed to stop the Hunger?” Lucretia sits up straight, hands in her lap to hide how she bit her nails to stubs.

“Aware enough.” John answers, and the way she looks at him sends an unfamiliar chill through him.

“You know what everyone has lost. And you know why I am hesitant to grant you clemency.”

“I'm not denying what's happened.” John says it without thought. Lucretia considers his words, struck by them. “I'm not denying that Merle was the one to stop me, either.”

“Yes. He told me much about what he did.”

“Did he?” John asks, staring at her with calculating silver eyes. “He told you exactly what he did with me?”

“No, not _exactly.”_ Madame Director looked flustered. “But he used his bond with you to tear the hunger apart.”

“And draw me out of it in the process. Yes, I know. I realized.” John murmurs, still staring. “I'm not as dangerous as you'd like to believe.”

Somewhere behind him Lup scoffed.

“Merle is my _friend_.” Lucretia responds, frowning. “If you even think about hurting him, we’ll have you disposed of before you could even think of stopping it.” She glances to Lup before looking at John once more. “Something I believe we should have done when you first emerged from Parlay alongside him.”

“Where's Merle then?” John says after a long pause. “And what did you ask of him?”

“That doesn't concern you.” Lucretia answers, for once looking like her cool exterior was cracking, showing how stressed she was beneath. "You may go back to," she grimaced, "Merle's quarters. He's probably back by now." 

When Lup was walking John back to the quarters, she shrugs and says; “I don't know why she just didn't tell you. You're on probation. Guess Luce expected you to ask Merle instead.”

“Yeah.” John replies without thinking.

“She probably just wanted you out of there because she was too embarrassed to look at you. Sound carries really loudly in the base. I’ll mention it to Merle about, um, soundproofing his quarters if he's gonna be banging you any time soon. Especially at night. It's yucky as hell.” She leans in and loudly whispers, “Major mood killer.”

“Thank you.” He flatly speaks, not looking at her.

“Yeah, no, thank _you_ for keeping it down next time. If you don't I'll definitely kill you. Might make Merle sad but,” she shudders, “At least you won't be screaming his name anymore. Friggin’ ew city!”

John still looks anywhere but at her as he opens the door. He catches Merle by surprise as he sits at his desk.

“Hey, Merle, next time you and the hunger bump uglies, can you make sure to gag him or something? I have something you can borrow for that.”

Merle makes a face that Lup can't not laugh at. “Yeah, I could hear you. I think all of Faerun could hear you. He's a screamer this one.” Lup jerked her thumb John's direction before departing. “By the way… Keep an eye on him or Luc’ll kill him herself.”

“Sure thing.” Merle grumbles from across the room, not even looking up from what he was writing, and John takes a step or two into the room after Lup shuts the door behind herself..

“So.” He begins, and Merle turns his attention to him. “What did she tell you?”

“Beside the whole soundproofing my damn quarters thing? Not much.” Merle crosses his arms over his chest. “Everyone will be keeping an eye on you.”

John scoffs and finishes crossing the room, throwing himself onto the bed. “I never doubted they would be. Your friends have all the reasons in the known universe not to trust me. You don't even trust me.”

“I don't.” Merle confirms, and John shuts his mouth.

“Do you think I want to be here, with you?” He's angry, spitting each word, the edge of his voice drifting into tears. “If I could have killed you, I would have.” John lifts onto his knees on the bed, head bowed, fingers drawing at his trousers. “Maybe just before everyone dropped the hammer on me, and I'd be dead too.” He takes in a deep breath, and holds it until he's shaking.

It isn't until Merle touches his back that all the air escapes him in a desperate whoosh. He coughs, crouched against the bed. Merle doesn't step back or move away at all. “You could leave me. Let me walk out of here with nothing. You could walk away, and let me suffer here alone.”

“And yet I'm still here.”

“Yes, you’re still here.” John acknowledges him quietly. “I don’t understand you. I thought I could grasp it, who you really are, but…” He lets his head drop, knuckles pressed to the mattress. “I’m nothing now.”

Merle takes a second to sit down beside him with a sigh. “Somebody once told me that you're not nobody as long as you have people who care about you.” John stays silent. “I, I do.” He stuttered on the delivery there, and John's gaze turns toward the dwarf’s expression. “And seeing as Lup didn't turn you to a pile of ash, she's probably warming up to you. Me letting you this close to me is probably the biggest reason why. Maybe she'll trust you more than I do.”

“I didn't kill her seventy times or more.” John replies, sarcastic.

“Huh.” Merle answers, and John is staring at him. “You may have a point. But you haven't tried to hurt me this time around yet.”

“Yet.” John coolly remarks, and Merle eventually turns to face him. “If you expect I will eventually then it'll happen, regardless of whether I planned it or not.”

Merle considers his words and, instead of speaking, puts his hand on John's shoulder. He starts, eyes clenching closed. “I have a feeling you won't. At least not on purpose.” Merle answers him, palms coming to rest on both of his shoulders.

“I don't know whether to thank you or to be offended.” John murmurs, and Merle tips his head forward to hear him. “That isn't the same as trust.”

“Call it a hunch then.”

 

* * *

 

Sometime about a week and a half later Lup let herself into Merle’s room and sat on the desk, legs crossed. “So.”

“So?” John asks, wondering what the hell she was doing in there, as he thumbed through Merle’s notebook, absently seeing if the dwarf wrote about him, cross legged on the bed. Merle was out doing who knows what with his friends, on some kind of mission. John didn’t ask.

“Barry told me you two haven't been, you know, boinking as loudly. Made me wonder if you were even doing it anymore.”

“Does everyone in this place know?” John sounds exasperated.

“Yep. So what's the deets. Are you two taking a break or something?”

John looks at her, asking in a deadpan voice. “Why do you want to know this so badly?”

“It's not like we have a betting pool going or anything.” Lup lies without any problem.

“Where else have I encountered this twenty questions style of conversing? Oh, yes. With Merle, just before I broke his neck sixty times.” John snaps.

“So are you still fucking or not?”

“Not… in a while.” He admitted, quietly. “Is that strange? Has he told you anything about why?”

“Not quite.” Lup responded. “More of a guessing game with Highchurch. Might be why he's so out of it lately. Get him laid. Maybe he'll be nice again.”

John fell silent.

She opened her mouth to speak. “Look, I'm glad you stopped screaming through the base, but if you ever need something or somebody to talk to beside Merle I'm right down the hall. Don't make me have to kick your ass because you're not talking to anyone else.”

John looks at her in disbelief. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“You know, you're not as scary as Merle made you out to be.” Lup looks down at her legs and then back at him. “Guess that's what happens when you're abandoned by all that power.” She braces her hands against the mattress and leans back. “I know that feeling better than anyone else here I think, besides Barry. Being free of a constricting mortal body, granted all this power, and then getting slammed dunked back into one is, yeah, it's disorienting to say the least.” She nods and looks at him. “I expect it's a lot worse when you no longer have the power of every plane in existence.” Lup worries her lip the same way he's seen the other elf do, and gives him a sarcastic little laugh. “You poor bastard.”

“You never saw me the way Merle did.”

“Uh, no. But the way he tells it, I wouldn't want to. Dying isn't fun.”

“I expect it wouldn't be.” John mulls over his words, working his mouth for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I kind of feel sorry for you.” Lup admits, stretching her long legs out in front of her. “You didn't really ask for this, getting kicked out of the Hunger as it crumbled, getting stranded here with all of us assholes, having to deal with Highchurch every day.”

She noticed how he was looking at her. “That last one is a joke, by the way “

John breathed. “I guess it was.”

Lup falls quiet before clicking her tongue after a few minutes. “Look, what I'm getting at here’s this: As long as you're sticking around, I'll be in your corner same as Merle. Sure, you destroyed everything anyone ever held dear but that wasn't _you_ , that was some massive eldritch thing that nominated, or, or, _projected_ you as it's voice. Like that was your job, you couldn't help it.” She shook her head. “Listen to me. A hundred years ago, I might have killed you on the spot, but you're just a victim as the rest of us. Maybe you even were somebody a long time ago, before the Hunger.”

“If I ever was, I don't remember.”

“Memory is a funny thing anyway. You can't trust it.” She gets up, heading back to the doorway.

John falls back against the bed, arms folded over the notebook lying on his chest.

“Yeah, if you ever need to talk or anything I'm right down the hall. And if you can't find me, ask Barry. He's the lovable nerd in the jeans and the thick glasses.” Lup swung around the doorway, sticking her head back in to leave one last message.

* * *

 

It's late when Merle gets back to his room. John is uneasy, jaw clenching and unclenching as he sits on the edge of the dwarf’s bed. He doesn't know why he's so antsy about Merle taking a while to get back to the base. There's nothing out there that could hurt him as badly as the hunger could have and that was _him_.

Merle slings his bag off his shoulder and the sound it makes when it hits the desktop is loud enough to echo through the room. He turns and seems to realize John was sitting there.

“I almost had a heart attack. You could have killed me!” Merle insists, and John uncrosses his legs before standing.

“Your friend Lup suggested you should,  and this is how she put it, _get laid_.”

“Of course she did.” Merle remarks, letting John lead him to the bed, before John kisses him.

"Not gonna let me relax one second before getting back, huh?" Merle is teasing him, and John doesn't respond, instead pulling him in and kissing him again, _hard_.

Merle lets him lead,  backing onto the bed. John pauses, looking down at him, knees drawn up on either side of him. He's breathing hard, lips wet, and Merle is looking up with something like wonder, and it sends a jolt through John's chest. Merle sits up with a grunt, before yanking him in with a renewed vigor, hands roughly handling his lapels. John's hands are all over him in an instant, tearing Merle’s trousers down as he shoves the dwarf down onto the mattress. John wraps a hand around his cock, drawing him to hardness. Pressing his hand to Merle’s shoulder, he holds him down as he takes the head of Merle’s quickly filling erection into his mouth.

He swears loudly, hips jerking up hard. John swallows around him, long fingers tightening around his hips. He raises his gaze to Merle, holding his eyes and the dwarf lets out a sound that catches in his throat. He lifts his head, lips swollen and gives him an appraising look.

“Don't forget to breathe.”

“Oh, _thanks_.” Merle replies, a breathless laugh bubbling up as John flips his hair out of his eyes and closes his mouth around Merle’s erection. “You're too good at this…” His mouth falls open, and he's sitting up on his elbows, watching John go to town. Merle swears again, head falling back onto his shoulders. He's already close, and John's mouth curves up at the corners as he takes hold of both of his hips. Merle’s legs are shaking, and the rolling of his hips is ragged, snapping up toward John's mouth. He takes hold of John's hair, tugging on it as he came. John gagged at the sudden hot liquid filling his mouth, but swallows, his tongue swiping across his swollen red lips to get every last drop. He watches Merle fall back, sated.

John sits up, wiping his mouth with his fingers. “When was the last time anyone did that to you?”

“Oh, a long time.” Merle shakes his head. “A long, long, long, long time.” It had been his wife, but he wasn't going to tell him that. But before that, oh, before Hecuba, it had been John. He'd wake up, sweating, _rock hard,_ dreaming of a soft mouth he couldn't entirely recall to whom it belonged.

“Good.” John sounds satisfied when he sits back on his heels, examining how Merle tucks himself back into his trousers. John's aching, and he distantly runs a hand between his legs, feeling the bulge of his erection. John moans under his breath as he grinds his palm down against his aching cock.

“Looks like somebody's been neglected.” Merle sits up, before pulling John by the waistband of his trousers so the human is straddling his thighs, and working his hand inside. He closes his fist around John's erection, and pumps it a few times in his hand. In seconds, John is doubled over, chin digging into Merle’s shoulder. His hand is grasping at Merle’s shirt somewhere between his shoulder blades and he's moving with his touch. John's voice is breaking as he moves, before he just muffles his cries in the crook of Merle’s neck. He moves with him, mouth falling open against Merle’s throat, teeth digging into his tender flesh. Already on the brink, it's only when Merle squeezes him that John lets out a sustained moan and spills out into his hand. He remains there, breathing in the faint scent of Merle’s skin, as the dwarf releases him.

“You good?” He asks as he turns away to wipe his hand clean when he notices John is sitting with his knees up, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“Do you do this out of obligation, that you think once we start you have to bring me to orgasm in exchange for your own?” John asks without looking up, voice still sounding strained.

“Is that what you think?” Merle huffs somewhere beside him, and John only knows where he is when the dwarf settles there next to him.

“What I think and what _is_ are two separate things.”

“Well, what _is_ , is that I do… all this, because it's nice. It's good. You don't agree?” Merle leans his arms on his knees too, a direct parallel to how John is posed. With a nudge, he continues: “I can stop if you want me to, but it doesn't exactly seem like it to me.”

“Stopping won't help my point.” John admits, lifting his head. His dark hair is falling in his eyes and he runs a hand through his hair to brush it back. “Might even make it worse.”

“Mhm.” Merle leans back beside him, hands flat on the bed behind him, steadying him. “Wasn't sure what you wanted. Why do you think I stopped messing around with you?”

John holds his tongue, spine stiffening.

“It's not because I didn't, you know, _want_ you or anything.” Merle continues, and John's eyes snap open and turn to focus on Merle’s face.

“You do want me, then. I'm not just expecting something that will never come?”

Merle scoffs and leans in. “How many times have I slept with you?”

John swallows, listening to him.

“Somewhere closer to ten than zero, am I right?” He shakes his head. “It's not like I just did it the once and never again.”

“Right,” John adds, flatly. He takes a breath, tilting his head back and exhaling through his teeth. Merle scrubs his hand across his face before letting it drop into his lap. John lets his gaze follow Merle’s hand, as he leans in, hand resting on the bed between Merle’s legs. He moves in closer, towering over him, before capturing Merle’s mouth with his own. The dwarf lets out a relaxed sound that's swallowed by John’s tongue swiping across his teeth. Merle pulls him by the face, and John crawls over him, never pulling away too far. Merle threads his hand through John's hair and John glances at him for a moment, licking his lips. He's kneeling between Merle’s thighs, boxing him in with his arms.

“Need a minute?” Merle is playing with the laces of John's shirt, before he pulls him in again to kiss him.

“No, I just... “ He's studying Merle’s expression, thumb brushing the curve of Merle’s cheekbone, half obscured by beard. “I got distracted.”

“Oh?” He's teasing. “By what?”

“I'm sure you know,” John grinds out before tipping their mouths together again.

“You don't sound too angry about it.” Merle says as soon as their lips part, and a narrow smile crosses John's lips, teeth showing like a snarl.

“Do you want me to be angry?” His palms catch on Merle’s face, fingers tangling in his beard, before he forces their faces together again. John's teeth sink into Merle’s lip, tugging at his lower lip until he groans at the sting. He bites down harder, feeling the thin flesh snap under his teeth. Merle’s fingers are wrapped in the laces of his shirt and John releases him after a moment, before swiping his tongue along the line of red that welled up along the dwarf’s lip. A long grunt escapes Merle’s mouth, and his eyes are glued to John's wet lips.

“Do you _want_ me to be angry?” He asks again, eyes falling half lidded as their mouths nearly brush together. John's voice is soft, but still too smooth. Merle lets out a breath, mouth tilted toward him, head tipping back.

John leans in first, half open eyes following his face as he presses their mouths together. The kiss is gentle, yielding where it could have been aggressive instead and Merle urges closer, opening his mouth to John. A longing moan breaks free and in response, Merle cups his face in his hands with as much tenderness as he could muster, seeking out the secret places in his mouth that would make him gasp, rolling him over so John is on his back. John doesn't seem to mind or even really notice as he looks up at him, face flushed just enough to stand out.

“Hard to stay _angry_ when you kiss like that, hm?” Merle gives him a grin, straddling his narrow hips. John runs his fingers along his lips, still in shock from that kiss. Looking at him, watching John's long fingers trace his bruised lips stokes a fire in Merle’s belly and he shifts his hips in John's lap. John is putty in his hands as he eases John's trousers down just enough to grasp his cock in his hand. With his other hand he undoes his own fly and pulls out his erection. Wrapping his hot hand around both slick lengths, he starts to stroke them together. John’s hips instantly buck toward Merle’s, and the dwarf groans, rocking back. John cries out, and hooks his arms around Merle’s waist, holding onto him as Merle grinds against him without mercy. Their hips bob back and forth until they discover a rhythm and settle into it. John lets his head fall back and he moans loudly, letting Merle stroke them both at once. Merle presses in, fingers speeding up. His breathing is harsh, interspersed with low groans as he knows it won't be long until John loses it. He's come to memorize what John looks like as he comes and he's pretty damn close already. John's head drops back, hair a total mess. His mouth is open like he can't get enough air. Merle puts his mouth to John's throat and leaves a red mark there for good measure, speaking against his sticky skin. “Don't forget to breathe.”

John's arms close around his back, and he's holding Merle close as their bodies grind together, moving in unison. Their cocks are sandwiched together between them, and John is falling headlong over the edge. His nails bite into Merle’s back as he comes, hips jerking stiffly. Merle opens his mouth against John's throat as he eases the human’s legs apart, pushing into him with only a little resistance. John lets out a cry that seems to have risen from the very depths of his core and Merle shoves into him harder. John lifts his head up to bury his face in Merle’s shoulder again and Merle covers the back of his neck with his free hand, letting him know he's right there for him. John doesn't start crying this time, which is good. Merle is going slow, pulling out with some effort like John is clenching around him and then pushing in carefully.

“Relax,” Merle breathes in his ear, and John shivers, arms tight around him. He's rolling his hips, bottoming out each time he fits into him perfectly. John's hips are shaking, and his cock is dripping fluid,  jerking up and splattering come all over his belly. Merle closes his fist around him, stroking slow, almost agonizingly so. John rolls over onto his stomach, gathering his knees beneath him and Merle angles in hard, sinking into him with no resistance this time. He smooths his hand along the side of John's thigh as he starts pounding him, taking his damn sweet time. John can't hold him so he's hugging his pillow to his face, muffling his cries. John pushes back against him as he comes again, just from a few touches. His belly is painted white but still, Merle does not stop. He slams his hips in hard one last time, and John's mouth opens wide as he feels Merle’s seed fill him up, as his body twitches around Merle’s cock as it went limp. John falls against the mattress, exhausted, his ass still in the air. He's come more times than he ever had before in one sitting. Merle chuckles under his breath, and John realizes how devious he sounds as something thick and wet pushes into his ass. It's deep, and John rolls onto his back again, chest heaving as he could feel something inside him start to tease and prod his sweet spot. His eyes fall shut and he's panting, ragged moans being drawn from his lungs.

Merle is running his hands along John's thigh as a second thick wet object pushes its way into him as well. They're thrusting counterpoint, one always inside him at any one point in time. John can't help but grow hard, cock red and aching, and he whines when Merle touches his stomach, fingers teasing him but never quite reaching his straining erection. He loses track of time, body burning in pleasure as he comes again, spilling out all over his belly. Merle shifts, squeezing his thigh and John's eyes snap open as both vines fill him, and then start to gush hot liquid into his guts. His mouth is wide as they're filling him with some kind of seed, and the liquid leaks out past them and down his thigh. He puts his hand to his stomach and as he does that, they depart, leaving him feeling empty and yet bloated from the fluid that still remains inside him.

John attempts to sit up, belly aching, and looks at Merle. “What was that?” He manages to speak and Merle presses a chaste kiss to his lips, patting his slightly distended tummy.

“Something or other for later.”

John isn't sure what he means by that and he isn't sure he wants to know. John lets Merle lay him back down on the bed and doesn't complain when Merle covers him to the shoulders with the sheet. He leans in and gives John a less than chaste kiss on the lips that the human reciprocates wearily, letting his abused mouth linger on John's bruised lips for a few heartbeats that seemed too loud in his ears. John's  hands are too busy under the blanket, cradling his aching bloated gut, as he settles into the bed. Merle slips in beside him, arm coming up around his waist. His hand settles against the center of John's aching stomach and with a pulse of healing magic, Merle makes him feel a little better. John puts out of his mind the sensation of being so full, and relaxes against Merle’s chest behind him. He's lulled to sleep by the sound of Merle’s heartbeat so close to his own and dreams for the first time of another lifetime, years and years and years ago where he was happy and Merle was there with him. He didn't recognize the plane they were on in the dream. He supposed that didn't matter. John pushes back against Merle as he sleeps and the dwarf tightens his arms around him, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder. Merle’s just listening to his heartbeat, and sleep is hard coming, as it always seems to be now that John is sharing his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> is this gonna end up a long-ass odyssey like my fallout one? probably  
> give me johnmerle fluff or give me death


End file.
